Heaven Ain't Close In A Place Like This
by KillingTheHours
Summary: Craig Tucker was never exactly a normal kid, But he never thought much of it until he was sent off to a mental hospital in Southern Colorado where he meets an eccentric teenager named Tweek. He's about to realize just how far from normal he really is.
1. Chapter 1

"I have always had a problem with swearing. Because of this, it wasn't unusual for me find myself in trouble at school. I wound up outside of the principal's office on a weekly basis. I was considered a trouble maker, and so my teachers thought nothing of it when I gradually stopped passing work in. Just more delinquent behavior from 'that Tucker kid, the one with no friends and a non-existent relationship with his parents,'" Craig paused and glanced at the ground, unable to meet the eyes of the man seated in front of him. "...And so no one had noticed when things started changing. When I couldn't stop sleeping, When I became disoriented, When I starting responding to whispers that no one else could hear. It took years for anyone to notice that my brain was frying, and once the school's guidance councilor overheard me conversing with a man she couldn't see for the third time in one week, she pulled me into her office, and called my parents. After that, everything happened so fast I can barely recall it. But my memory's been shit these past two years anyway."

"That was probably the most I've ever heard you speak all at once." The doctor in front of him crossed one scrub-clad leg over the other, resting an unshaven cheek on his balled fist. Craig rubbed his hands together nervously, something that he couldn't recall ever doing before, but everything about this situation was new to him. The hospital, the small, tan room, the smell of iodine and perpetual beeping from across the hall, it all ended to the sense of surreality that Craig seemed to be choking on. He uttered a quiet "Me too." Before turning his head and yanking on the softly worn out strings to his blue chullo, pulling the familiar hat down his forehead. His hat was more a part of him than anything else had ever been, even after the yellow pompom came lose from the top and eventually fell off, and the more of his head that the ratty old thing covered, the more at ease Craig felt.

"You know that we have to confiscate your possessions that could be considered a strangulation hazard during your stay here, correct?" The doctor said, raising his eyebrows into his graying hair.

"I do now." Craig deadpanned in response, squeezing his strings tighter. The doctor narrowed his eyes, voice still calm.

"Yes. I'm going to need to take your belt, sneakers, iPod, and hat. We'll keep them safe for you." Craig suddenly sat up straighter, despite his fatigue and the ache in his chest. Damn costochondritis.

"No. This is my fucking hat." They couldn't do this. They wouldn't.

"I'm sorry." He said, standing up and pulling the hat from Craig's head. "But it's a rule here. I'll need you to put your remaining things in this box, we'll keep it behind the desk in the lobby for you."

"But I'm not suicidal! I would never consider strangling myself!" He_ was _considering strangling the asshole in front of him, however.

"But what if someone that did happen to have those issues got their hands on it, Mr Tucker?" He was clearly growing more and more impatient with Craig.

"No one else would dare touch my hat..." Craig muttered as he kicked off his black converse and pulled off his leather belt, dropping them loudly in the cardboard box in front of him along with his silver iPod classic. _("What the fuck is the point in apps and angry birds? I just want music. I have a computer for all that other shit.")_ and sat back down, crossing his arms. The place reeked of pill bottles and death. He wanted out.

"I can show you to your room now if you want to go to bed."

"Bed?" "Yes. It's almost midnight." The ride there had been long, but he wasn't sure how long. After leaving Hell's Pass, he was delivered to 'The Colorado General' in an ambulance. They had him sedated and strapped to the gurney, 'Hospital regulations.' Craig wasn't being a hassle, and despite the actions taken, was too tired to put up a fight against the needles prodding his arms. The whole situation was degrading, at best. There had been two people in the back of the ambulance, silently inspecting him as he was dozing in and out of consciousness during the ride. Even so, Craig remained exhausted. So he nodded, and the doctor led him out of the room and down a wide hallway, painted light green and lined with closely placed wooden doors on either side. He finally opened the second-to-last door at the end of the hallway, and curtly nodded as he ushered Craig in, shutting it again as soon as he was trapped inside. The carpet was gray and thin under his feet, covered by his favorite bicycle-printed socks. There were two beds inside, both empty. He crawled onto the one next to a large window, and pulled the hood on his navy blue sweatshirt over his short black hair. Someone had already brought his tiny suitcase in, and it was set in the middle of the floor. Craig leaned over to open it and take out one of the Dr. Peppers he had stashed, only to be met with an empty pocket and a heavy heart. _They confiscated my fucking hat and took my fucking soda...They want me to die here. _Craig sunk back down into the thin mattress below him, defeated, and rolled over to face the window, thick, light-blocking curtains drawn shut. Curious, he threw them open in order to plan some escape route, for the sake of Dr. Pepper if nothing else, only to be met with thick, bulletproof glass and high shriek from the other end of the small room. His head whipped around.

"What the fucking shit?"

"Keep those closed d-damn you! D-d-don't let them s-see us..." The voice was high and strained, and it was coming from the corner behind the other bed. Mildly curious and beyond pissed, Craig stood up and located the owner of the voice, kneeling down in front of him a skinny, crouching figure with his knees to his chin and a his thumbnail in his mouth.

"Who the fuck are you, and what the fuck are you doing you little bastard." Clearly, the faggot's goal had been to scare Craig out of his mind. Who the hell decides to play hide and seek in a mental hospital just to terrify the newcomers? The boy lifted his blond head. The hair that wasn't sticking straight up fell down to his shoulders, and his coffee brown eyes were wide and shadowed deeply. A wide smile spread across his pale face, revealing small, jagged teeth and hollow cheekbones. The kid looked like something from a horror movie.

"T-Tweek."

"Tweek." Craig repeated. "Awesome. What's your name."

The blond's sharp-toothed smile fell from his face.

"Tweek." he repeated, this time without a stutter.

"What's your real name." Craig inquired, growing more and more impatient with the little freak show. He didn't actually care. No. Craig Tucker doesn't give two shits about anyone. It doesn't matter to him what the kid's name is, especially not if the douche was just trying to fuck with his head. So why couldn't he just walk back to his bed?

"My r-real name, is Tweek, dumbass." He shuddered once and grabbed Craig by the shoulders, pulling their bony faces close to each other, before the noirette was assaulted with the scent of coffee as he whispered, mere centimeters from Craig's lips.

"We shouldn't t-talk here kid. C-close the curtains. Come to the b-bathroom." That was as much warning as Craig received, before he was shoved backwards onto the unforgiving floor, as the boy now known as Tweek leapt over the bed and scurried through a door next to the one that Craig had entered through. He looked small while he was huddled on the floor, but Craig noticed that as he stood and scrambled like mad for the door, Tweek easily had a few inches over Craig's 5'11, despite his skeletal frame. Craig stood up slowly and closed the curtains, as the strange boy had ordered him, and followed him into the bathroom. _What are you doing you fucking idiot. Don't get involved with him. He's a creep. Just go back to bed. _But his feet wouldn't listen, and he ended up peering through the crack of the bathroom door, Letting a sliver of silver light into the otherwise shadowy room. The floors were tiled, the walls the same pale blue as the rest of the room, the ceiling was ridiculously high. He noticed a sink, toilet, mirror...No Tweek. Just then, a large, bony hand beckoned and retreated from inside a tall, ceramic shower gone previously unnoticed, as it was tucked in the darkest corner. The small, square shower had a thick curtain attached directly to the high ceiling. _No curtain rods, must be another safety hazard. _Craig reluctantly peaked his head in, only to be greeted by a barefoot and hardly visible Tweek huddled in the corner. He patted the floor next to him, and Craig sat down next to him. It was cramped, and he immediately felt uncomfortable. Being in close proximity to people was bad. This is how rape stories start. He had a right to feel as sketched out as he was.

"T-take your s-socks off. Socks don't belong in a-a shower, r-tard." Tweek pulled his thumbnail into his mouth once again, clicking his tiny teeth against it.

"Neither does clothing in general." Craig deadpanned, pulling his knees to his chin, mirroring the freak next to him.

"We can t-take the r-rest of those off t-too, if it m-makes you feel better. The s-shower doesn't mind a-a-and neither do I." Tweek's head snapped around, his wide, brown eyes meeting Craig's narrow, gray ones. The feeling of discomfort was nearly crippling, as it wound it's way around Craig's lungs and squeezed tight.

"What the hell is your problem, exactly." The noirette inquired, face remaining expressionless, despite the chills running up his spine.

"Those are s-secrets for me only." He brought a single finger to his lips in a private oath of secrecy. "Keep y-your clothes h-how you want them. What's y-your name?"

"Uh. Craig." Craig replied, peeling off his socks in a desperate hope that Tweek would let the issue of his clothing go. He should have lied. He should have given a fake name. Now Tweek would be able to find him. Fuck you too, foggy brain.

"Why a-are you here?"

The question made Craig pause. His mind wrapped around the few memories that remained of the last few years, finding little that was useful to him in any way. Details of what he ate for dinner a few nights ago, a fight with his dad, flunking an algebra exam, the pattern on the bottom of his shoes. Nothing about the possible diagnosis. He answered as honestly as he could.

"I don't know yet. I think that's why I'm here. What about you." Tweek responded by yanking hard on his long, blond hair, and succeeded in tearing a small chunk from his head. He squeaked, letting it fall to the floor of the shower, and hugged his skinny knees closer to his chest.

"Don't do that." Craig muttered, pulling Tweek's hands from his hair in an impulsive second of pity. _No! Don't touch him! That's bad! _Tweek's skin was freezing. He looked Craig in the eye for a split second before hurdling into his chest, wrapping his long arms around Craig's skinny torso.

"What the fuck!" _NO. THIS IS WHAT YOU GET FOR TOUCHING HIM. CLEAN YOURSELF. BURN IT OFF._

"SSHHH." Tweek muttered into Craig's hoodie. "They'll h-hear us."

"Who'll hear us." Why can't he move? Why can't he just shove him off? Work, brain! Work!

"The things o-outside. On th-the roof. This is why I k-k-keep the curtain closed. You smell like p-pot you know, we can't smoke here. T-They won't let us."

"What things? What are you talking about?"

"These l-little white t-things. They try to t-talk to me. C-Craig, are you tired?" Yes, he was tired. He was extremely tired. That had to be the logical reason for why he wasn't shoving this freak show off of his tits, that was the reason that he was listening to his bullshit.

"Yeah. I am."

"Will you s-sleep with me?"

"What." This kid was a fucking lunatic. But his deep-set mocha eyes turned up towards Craig's narrow face, and he saw something in his expression that he wasn't expecting-Fear.

"I d-don't sleep. E-ever. T-they won't l-let me... But I don't w-wanna be alone! Please Craig!"

_NO. No way in hell! This is scary, why is this happening? Leave me alone!_

"Fine."

"Thank you!" If Craig wasn't already frozen in shock by the traitorous words that fell from his lips, he would have been after Tweek's reaction. He suddenly stood up, scooping Craig off of the floor of the shower bridal style, and sprinted to his bed, skirting the wall and staying as far away from the window as possible before plopping the irritated and stunned noirette on the scratchy white blanket, and diving under the sheets, curling into a fetal position in a single, fluid motion. Craig sat on top of the blanket for a few, long seconds as his brain processed what had just happened, before following suit and crawling under the blankets next to Tweek, despite the longing to sleep alone, in his room, with the sound of his guinea pig rustling around in it's cage. How the hell do these things happen. Why the fuck was he here. Why the fuck was he locked in a mental hospital, in a dark room with a psychopathic blond kid, and why the fuck was he in said psychopathic blond kid's bed. In the last few seconds before Craig slipped into a fitful yet silent sleep, he could have sworn he felt a freezing cold arm wrap around his waist, pulling him closer.

o0o

Craig awoke with a start to find himself being spooned by a softly twitching, unfamiliar body. He sat straight up, knocking their pale arm to the side.

"Oh g-good, you're up. Now I won't be b-bored anymore." Craig groaned as the memory of the night before came rushing back to him, and the back of his neck began to sweat in fear. He jumped out of bed as fast as he could, and his overwhelmed brain was immediately overtaken by severe vertigo. Momentarily blinded, he fell to his knees and felt around for his suitcase. His feet were freezing. He needed socks. He needed them now.

"What time is it."

"I'm gunna g-guess around 9." Tweek answered, sitting up and facing Craig. "We're supposed have group going on right now. It's your first day, so I asked the nurse to let you sleep in."

"Group?" Craig asked.

"M-Meetings. Like, group therapy. It's lame. I s-stay here usually. T-They don't let m-me go down to lunch w-with everyone else when I d-d-don't participate though." The rings around Tweek's eyes proved that he wasn't lying when he claimed he never slept. He stayed awake in his room all night, and stayed awake in his room all day too? Craig ran his long fingers through his greasy hair. He stated the first question that came to mind, as the dizziness faded and the black fog slowly cleared from his vision, blurry with fatigue.

"What do you do in here all day?"

"I draw." Tweek replied, as if was the most obvious thing in the world. "You can d-draw with me t-today if you l-like." His white tank top had twisted around his chest, and his hair was even more disheveled than it had been when Craig had first found him hiding beside the bed. The blond's pale lips turned up in a smile. He was so childish, it was almost disturbing.

"No thanks. I'm not an artist." The smile immediately fell from Tweek's face.

"You d-don't have to be an artist...I'm just l-lonely."

"I'm apparently supposed to be in group. I don't want to get in trouble here. Where am I supposed to go for this."

"Down the hall, h-hang a left, the white d-double doors." Tweek sounded beyond disappointed, But Craig refused to be swayed by pity for this kid again. He wasn't going to wind up sleeping with him a second time. So he left wordlessly, slamming the door behind him, stepping as quickly as he could manage on the cold wooden floors. What a freak. If his mind hadn't be clouded by sedatives and exhaustion, he would have just closed the damn curtain without question. He definitely wouldn't have wound up in the faggot's bed. He had let someone lay their dirty hands on him-a stranger at that. It was disgusting. He never let anyone touch him, and he would never let anyone in. It was dangerous. And those feelings weren't about to change now. The walk took long than he expected, but after the first left turn, Craig noticed the white double doors, just as Tweek had promised. Tweek. The stranger that Craig shared a bed with. He was disgusted with himself, as he fought the urge to run back to the room and shower, scrubbing his skin clean of the smell of Tweek. He cleared his head as much as he could manage, before pushing the doors open and walking into a room full of mentally ill strangers.

o0o

"Craig Tucker? Goodmorning sleeping beauty." Craig felt immediately felt more disgust towards the brunette nurse in front of him. Her warm tone and round, flushed cheeks created an air about her that was obnoxiously cheerful considering the situation. What a cunt. The room's remaining occupants consisted of 7 shockingly normal looking boys, each appearing around Craig's age, and seated in white, plastic chairs in a ring in the center of the room. The walls were lined with mismatched love seats and 3-seater couches, along with drawings and doodles taped to the chipping white paint. He guessed from younger patients.

"We were just starting another project. How about you sit down and everyone will introduce themselves?" The nurse had a name tag, but Craig couldn't read it from the other side of the clean, white room. He silently obliged, talking a seat in a plastic lawn chair in between two blond boys.

"Kyle? Why don't you start?" She asked as she gestured to a short ginger to her right, a huge fake smile planted on her pudgy face. The boy named Kyle shook out his curly, auburn hair before introducing himself.

"Hi. I'm...Kyle." He had bright green eyes and a high, smooth voice, shockingly feminine. "I'm 17 and I'm perpetually pissed off." Craig heard someone snort in laugher on the other side of the circle, as Kyle pulled up a gray blanket around his shoulders, and the nurse gestured to the solemn noirette sitting next to Kyle.

"I'm Stan Marsh, and I'm an alcoholic." The boy's monotone voice was dripping with sarcasm as he leaned over and rested his head on Kyle's shoulder, closing his dark eyes. Nap time. The blonde between Stan and Craig chuckled into a black bandana covering his mouth and nose, before pulling it down around his neck and grinning, revealing a set of 3 lip rings.

"Name's Kenny. Stan's got some sand in his vagina this morning. He'll get over it." Kenny stuck his arm out, offering Craig a handshake. The kid seemed really relaxed, but cheerful. Like a walking ball of sunshine. He donned an orange jacket, with the hood almost covering his sandy hair. Craig tentatively shook his hand and decided that he liked Kenny, and his freckles. The other blond, to Craig's right had a high, stuttering voice similar to Tweek's, but quieter, without the strain. It made Craig's stomach turn, all the same. He pulled the sleeves of his light blue sweatshirt from his elbows to his fingertips, and folded the ends under his tiny, closed fists, like little blue paws.

"I'm Leopold Stotch...But you can call me L-Leo if you w-want." He pulled his legs up and sat on his feet. "I have m-multiple personality d-disorder I g-guess." Leo bumped his knuckles together, his light blue eyes flicking around the room nervously before nodding his head to the kid next to him, donning a thick red jacket and blue plaid boxers...No pants. He had socks however, although one was dirty and white, while the other short and purple. He crossed his arms and leaned back until his chair was balanced on two legs.

"Name's Clyde. I like mexican food, but I don't like mexicans." Clyde didn't look like he showered much, either. At least they had that in common. The monster next to Clyde must have been even taller than Tweek was. He was wide, and had warm brown hair like the taco-enthusiast he was seated beside. His black pajama pants were printed with cheeseburgers.

"Eric Cartman. I don't like mexicans either." He narrowed his amber eyes at the last boy in the circle.

"My name is Token Black." That was funny. He was black. with shoulder length dreadlocks and an ugly christmas sweater. "I play bass and I sing..." He paused. "That's it. Your turn." Blackie gestured to Craig.

"Craig Tucker. 17. Skateboards and guinea pigs." The nurse in the center hopped out of her plastic chair, clapping her hands together animatedly as her shiny brown bob bounced around her chin.

"My name is Nurse Donna. You'll know me as the one that brings the food up here if you don't get cafeteria privileges. You guys can move to the couches and get socialized, I'm gonna go grab the movie!" She hopped out of the room with too much spring in her step. Craig turned around and firmly planted his flat ass on the love seat directly behind him, as the other boys filed into their own respective couches. Kenny threw himself down beside Craig, who was immediately flooded with relief. He didn't want to end up sitting anywhere near the fatass, or the pissy kid...Stan, was it?

"Hey man. What's going on?" Kenny greeted. His bandana had made it's way back over his mouth.

"What kind of group therapy is this." Kenny chuckled.

"Since we're not in school, during the week they have us meet up together to do 'educational' stuff. We did some geometry shit before you woke up, now they're making us watch some national geographic documentary. Like I said, it's supposed to be educational, but no one actually pays attention. Ever." He pulled his bandana down once again, and began to chew on the two silver rings through the right side of his lip, ignoring the one on the left.

"I would assume so." Craig responded, silently pondering how the kid's teeth were so perfect if he habitually chewed on those things.

"What happened to the chubby one's pants." Kenny threw his head back and laughed, knocking the hood off of his head. He had blue plugs in his ears, about the size of Craig's thumbnail.

"Laundry daay!" Kenny sang through his laughter. "This happens every week. He came on short notice, barely brought any clothes with him. For some reason he always washes it all at once. Prolly doesn't even have a shirt under that jacket. Kid's got no shame."

Craig involuntarily lifted on side of his mouth in a little half-smile. How did the kids seem so comfortable here? It was like there were all a normal, functional family. It was a little too much for him to handle.

"Oh, there is one other person that you didn't get to meet yet. His name's-"

"Tweek." Craig finished. Maybe not _all _of them were normal and functional... Kenny's eyes widened.

"You already know him? Oh god, you're not rooming with him, are you?"

"I am. What the hell is with that kid?" Part of Craig wanted to mention the reasons behind his growing feelings of fear and disgust towards Tweek, but decided against it. The outcome of the previous night filled him with shame and the unshakable need to scrub his skin until it bled, and voicing the things that worried him out loud would only make them more real.

"Oh my god dude. He's a wreck. I feel so bad for the kid, he'll probably never get out of here." Kenny laced his fingers behind his head, leaning back and threading his bare ankles through the hole under the arm of the chair in front of him.

"What's his diagnosis?" Craig questioned, now becoming morbidly curious. "I asked him when I got here last night, but he...ripped his hair out of his head and then tackled me." That was the most of the story Kenny was going to get.

"Kid's real clingy." Kenny said, nodding. "He's wicked delusional and claims that he sees these...little ghost things. Like gnomes, and that they talk to him. Insomniac, psychotic episodes, caffeine addict...List goes on and on."

"Holy shit."

"He's so awkwardly cute though..." Kenny continued. "Like a little puppy. He's followed all of his other roommates around, and always wants to draw or paint or cuddle with someone. But you don't seem like the kind of person to appreciate that. Some patients need more comfort than others."

"I'm not." Craig confirmed through gritted teeth. "But...Cute? Have you seen his fucking teeth?" He mentally questioned how anyone could find someone so twitchy, and frighteningly touchy, cute in any way.

"No shit. They're kind of hard to miss. You'll see what I mean though. He's just a lonely little kid, really." Nurse Donna burst though then, dvd in hand, interrupting the conversation between the two boys with heavy feet and noisy humming as she fiddled with the outdated television mounted in a wooden box on the wall.

"I doubt that." Craig stated, finishing up the conversation. "He scares the shit out of me."


	2. Chapter 2

_Sorry that this chapter is so short, an that the update has taken so long you guys, Some things came up and writing was the last thing on my mind. But I do have some more inspiration and motivation at the point, so you can expect more updates soon! (And longer chapters, I promise.)_

Craig's head was still spinning with the information he had taken in during the meetings with these strange kids as he walked alone down the wide hallway. Despite the normal appearances and attitudes, each of the boys had their own stories, some strikingly similar to his own; Being lost, confused, alone. They suffered through so much hatred and false accusations, and were just as misunderstood as Craig. He thrived in isolation, but no one, not even Craig, cared for the disgusted treatment he received.

He returned to his room only to find it empty, save for his suitcase and a piece of paper folded haphazardly on his pillow. Relieved to be alone, but confused about the note, he stepped around his possessions on the floor, to his bed against the furthest wall to retrieve said paper. He unfolded the messy crease across the center, and inspected the crude crayon drawing. His eyes were met with two stick figures-or box figures really. One had short black hair and a blue body, the other had spiky banana-yellow hair, and a green body. They had their hands clasped together, beaming at Craig from under a rainbow set in a scribbly pale blue sky. The fluffy, white clouds had happy faces. Next to one, was a speech bubble. On closer inspection, Craig could make out the chicken scratch handwriting to say "I piss rain!" At the bottom of the page, in the same scrawling font, read; "I'm sorry I asked you to take your clothes off. ):"

Craig involuntarily smirked at the adorable childishness of the whole situation, and froze just as fast as he mentally processed the fact that this was from Tweek. The same Tweek that had been poisoning Craig's mind with his freakish antics all fucking day. The same Tweek with the horror-show eyes that remained burned into the back of Craig's eyelids, making him fight the urge to cringe with every blink. No, Tweek was not cute. Tweek was not adorable and puppy-like, contradictory to whatever the fuck Kenny had said. Even if the shitty drawing made Craig feel more apologetic than disgusted. The feeling came to a screeching halt when the door flew open behind him, the noise causing Craig's bony shoulders to tense up and his body to whip around in sheer terror, only to be greeted by a blue and red blur hurling into his scrawny chest as he was tackled to the ground by a very excited psychopath.

"CRAIG! I m-missed you!"

Tweek was all but straddling Craig's thighs, balanced on his skinny knees with a large, bony hand on either side of Craig's head. His long, wild hair tickled a horrified Craig's cheekbones as Tweek beamed a ragged smile, as innocent as it was frightening.

"What the hell are you doing? I was only gone for a few hours! Where did you even come from? Get off of me!"

Craig managed to shove the massive kid onto his side long enough to struggle out of his death-grip and flatten himself against the closest wall, arms outstretched. If Tweek advanced, Craig would knock him away or kick him in the nards. No more pity. His brain was working at a normal pace today, and he would not be taken advantage of by a clingy, blond-headed skeleton.

"I'm s-sorry."

Said skeleton sunk to his knees. Instead on sitting on his feet, his ankles sat on either side of his hips, giving the illusion of broken legs. Even in tight blue jeans and a faded vintage McDonald's shirt, the kid couldn't have looked creepier if he tried.

"I thought y-you might h-have wanted a hug. You...Y-You seemed sad this m-morning. I was worrying a-about you."

His dark brown eyes widened further then should be physically possible, and they stared directly at Craig's astonished face and protective stance. No doubt taking in as many hurtful interpretations of the reaction as he could.

"God dammit..."

Craig dropped his arms in pitiful defeat. He could try to reason with him. Here goes nothing.

"Okay. I don't really know you kid." _Awesome. That was as warm and friendly as you can get. Nice going asshole._ "I'm not cool with...being touched. It's not that I don't like you..." _You fucking liar._ "But you need to calm down a little with the physical contact if we're gonna be roomates here. Okay?"

Even though Craig had kept the amount of personal information he was revealing to a minimum, his stomach clenched as nausea began climbing up his throat. He felt naked, exposed, knowing that he had still shared way too much, and almost immediately regretted every word that came out of his mouth. His regret only grew as Tweek began to slowly raise his eyebrows, and his mouth went slack.

"I-I'm sorry...I didn't kn-know. Hey. C-Can we maybe just...sit a-around and t-t-talk a little? B-But I d-don't wanna annoy you or a-anything..."

Shit. Fuck. Ass. Cock-sucking motherfucking son of a bitch. Tweek must have mentally run through a list of the worst possible things to do with a new roommate, and picked the one that would make Craig cringe even more than tackle-hugs and shower slumber parties. Touching made him feel violated, and frightened, but although mentally scarring it was preferred over one-on-one conversation. It was one thing with Kenny, He talked enough for the two of them and apparently had a lot to share, whereas Tweek was all questions and random outbursts. Craig could sit and listen to Kenny spin intricate stories of his experiences with animated hand movements and amusing sarcasm, as Craig simply nodded him along.

After the movie, the boys (minus Tweek, of course) collected in the rec room across the hall and hung out in groups, Where Craig was forced to become associated with Kyle and Stan, the latter whom he was still iffy about. All the same, the two roommates were clearly best friends. They clung to each other and spoke in hushed whispers, sharing a blanket and a seat on the couch. How could two people be so close? He couldn't imagine hanging around his own roommate out of personal choice, and secretly wished he was paired with Kenny or Kyle. Someone relaxed, that understood his need for personal space.

All the same, he decided that one night of casual pillow talk wouldn't kill him as long as he gave short and blunt answers, and didn't try to keep the conversation going. Maybe humoring Tweek would give him some incentive to leave Craig alone in the future. Besides, he looked like he was about to cry. It doesn't matter how spazzy and weird your roommate is, you don't make him cry. Ever. It makes you look bad, and if nothing else, his snot-filled wails will keep you up all night

"Okay. Sure. I can handle that."

"D-Do you wanna c-color with me...m-m-maybe? We w-won't have to t-talk as much."

Regrettably, Craig took the opportunity to keep the kid as quiet as he could and nodded, plopping himself on the floor in front of Tweek , crossing his long legs. Tweek reached under his mattress, retrieving a box of crayons (96 pack, the kid was a winner.) and a pile of printer paper, passing it to Craig before reaching back under and grabbing a ring-bound sketchbook for himself. Craig watched intently as a pokerfaced Tweek casually flipped through page after page of amazingly intricately detailed sketches of robotic fish, eyeballs leaking words, curly, bare-branched trees, and over and over again, faces of men and women with steampunk-looking goggles, until he found a blank page, and pulled out a green crayon. He began to leisurely sketch a frog.

"You can draw like that, and all I got was a shitty little stick figure?"

Tweek furrowed his pale eyebrows.

"There were t-two stick figures, asshat."

Craig's thin lips turned up slightly as he grabbed a purple crayon and began to draw a bird.

"D-Did you just smile?"

Tweek asked, his head tilted and his crayon finding a home on the floor. Craig touched his face. He did. He did smile. Tweek said something, that made him smile.

"I n-never imagined you were c-capable of s-such a feat."

"I didn't think you were capable of functional sarcasm. I guess we both learned something new today."

Craig shot back. This time it was Tweek's turn to smile, the difference being that the blond's smile was wide and reached his eyes, lighting up his whole face. When he was happy, he didn't look quite so scary.

"Why don't you ever sleep?"

Craig found himself asking before he could stop himself.

Tweek's hand stopped the smooth, sweeping motions it was making as he froze in place. Even the small tremors running through his lanky body ceased to exist for a few heavy moments.

_Oh god I broke him. _

Tweek suddenly snapped back into focus, continuing the shading of the lilly seated next to his frog. Craig had almost given up hope on an answer when Tweek broke the silence with his shrill voice.

"I n-never really have. Every once i-i-in a while I'll just c-crash. I could be out for d-days. But m-mostly, my anxiety and th-the voices keep me up."

Craig was not expecting himself to reveal what he did next.

"I...I hear voices too. Sometimes. Just sometimes though...Only sometimes."

Tweek turned up to look at the raven, raising his eyebrows as if expecting greater detail. Which Craig's low, monotonous voice reluctantly supplied.

"It's usually just whispers that I can't quite understand, or static. Like someone left a TV on in the next room, and I can't figure out what the newscasters are trying to tell me. It's annoying."

"I hear the s-static too sometimes. And the th-things outside the w-window. They used to...to live in my h-house. They f-followed me here. Th-they really like f-f-fucking with my h-head. They t-take my things and p-put them in w-weird places. That I would n-never put them. E-Ever. They have a l-leader. I c-call him...Rodger. I don't l-like Rodger. He's th-the biggest."

Tweek turned down towards his paper once again, a silvery blue river was beginning to appear. He left a few blank spots in weird shapes throughout the color.

"Kenny told me some of the reasons why you're here...Those are some of the reasons why I'm here too."

The raven hadn't intended to let out that piece of information. He hadn't intended to tell the freakshow anything at all, actually, but that was too much. He immediately tensed himself for the rush of regret and self-hatred he was about to feel, but it never came. When he pried his eyes open, Tweek was staring at him again.

"I...I'm sorry. T-This isn't something that sh-should happen to a-anyone."

Tweek leaned forward just enough to reach Craig's paper, where he drew a small, lopsided heart with his slate gray crayon before returning to his own work.

o0o

_Jackson._

The name was imprinted into his brain as Craig fell to his knees, wailing in pain as his back was impaled by a set of tiny, sharp teeth. The checkered floor below him began to fade, transforming into the spinning bronze gears of Tweek's googles. They clicked and clacked as they turned fast, throwing Craig into the wall behind him, his spine snapping upon impact. Still alive, he screamed and clutched his aching chest, as he grabbed and pulled at his gray t shirt, begging and pleading for help, for refuge. A cold hand brushed the hair away from Craig's leaking eyes, caressing his cheek as it dragged his face upwards, until his lips met someone else's in a hard, painful kiss. The unfamiliar mouth pulled away, stretching into a macabre grin with white, razor teeth.

Tweek's brown eyes opened wide, fading into black sockets as he licked his lips. His face became pale white, his high cheekbones melting into his flesh. His enormous height fell to Craig's chest, though his long arms remained the same length. Now each of Jackson's teeth ended in a single point, as opposed to Tweek's ragged ones. Jackson grabbed a now-upright Craig by the throat, still grinning while clacking his tiny teeth, as he dug his long nails in the back of Craig's neck. Blood began dripping slowly down his broken spine, as Craig tried to fight the vignette blackness creeping around the edges of his shaky vision.

They stood in the very center of the clockwork now, the gears spinning in rapid spirals under their feet. Every drop of blood unfortunate enough to land on the metal tornado below, was impaled on impact with a tiny metallic 'cling'. God, He could hear the music. Haunting circus music. It echoed throughout the tiny square room with it's checkered walls, and the spinning floors, and a ceiling so high he couldn't find the end.

Suddenly, Jackson's fingers were gone, and the pain subsided oh so slightly, as Craig bled out on the cold metal floor. There were rusty scissors dangling from the ceiling.

_When did those get there?_

They hung in the heavy air, thick with the smell of incense, on black strings, held open as they began to spin in rapid circles, nearly matching the pace of the clockwork below him. Craig could no longer keep his eyes open. He was beginning to fade out, his crimson blood forming a pool under his limp body, turning black as ink. Unsure of his own body and mind, He smiled weakly to himself, the smile becoming a grin. He started to chuckle softly, and before he could stop himself, the room rang with the sound of his booming, maniacal laugher. The music grew quieter and quieter until Craig heard nothing but his own raspy, nasally voice, coughing and sputtering as black, inky blood escaped from his lungs, flowing from his tongue until his breath itself ceased to exist. He was cold, lying bent and broken on the bronze gears as they screeched to a halt. The room became still, with the exception of the tiny drops off blood running from the pieces of the broken floor to the nothingness below. In the middle of the mess, was a pale white boy, with wide stretched eyes and a frozen smile full of tiny, jagged teeth.

o0o

The lonesome Tucker boy was awakened with a jolt, sitting up in the borrowed hospital bed in a cold sweat, gasping for breath. Craig shoved a single finger into his open mouth, checking his teeth. Just to be sure.

Intact, flat. He was okay. Ever since his mind started going to hell, Craig had found it hard to tell the difference between dreams and reality. The fact that his repetitive hallucinations showed up in both, didn't make things any easier. His memories were faded and mangled, constantly mixed with things he wasn't sure ever actually happened. Sometimes, Craig did strange things, when he thought he was still dreaming.

Heart still racing and familiar nausea beginning to twist it's way through his gut, he stood up on unsteady feet and made his way to the bathroom, just in time to empty the contents of his stomach into the toilet. Craig leaned back against the wall, wiping sweat from his forehead and peeling off his hoodie. It was too hot. the air was too thick. He couldn't breathe. His t-shirt came off with it, but he was too overheated and sick to care. He must have been a human radiator at this point, because when his bare chest hit the tile floor as he collapsed from dizziness and disorientation, the space around his body fogged up with steam, not unlike the chalk outline around the corpse of a mentally insane teenage boy. His head was buzzing, he was floating. A shower. A fucking ice cold shower. That would help. It had to. His sweatpants joined his hoodie and t-shirt in a heap on the floor.

Craig was frantically pulling off his boxers with his left hand, while he opened the curtain with the right, only to discover a sobbing and huddled Tweek on the shower floor. His dream came rushing back to him.

_Tweek kissed me. _

Craig immediately felt nausea rising back up through his stomach, bringing with it the unshakeable urge to vomit out the rest of his intestines into the toilet. He didn't have enough time to turn around and bolt out of the room before Tweek's head shot up, neck cracking loudly as he squeaked and pulled his sprawling legs towards himself in a protective stance.

"G-GO AWAY."

Tweek was shaking violently, teeth grinding together in fear and hatred. Craig grit his teeth before replying. "No. This is a shower. Which I intend on using. Get out."

"F-FUCK NO. I don't want h-him touching me."

Craig pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and pointer finger.

"Believe me, fuckass. Nobody wants to touch you."

The blonde boy responded by grabbing the curtain and yanking it closed, a movement to end the discussion.

"Do I have to go to the front desk and complain about this?"

It was a hollow threat, Craig mentally cringed at the thought of having to hold another conversation with another person tonight. Especially one of the nurses. Professional people freaked him out. They had to act polite, always, and they would never be honest if they disliked someone. It was impossible to trust anybody who wasn't as blunt and hateful as himself. All the same, Tweek clearly became even more shaken, even behind the curtain Craig could hear the rapid clicking of his fingernails against his teeth, as well as the shuffling noise of the cloth over his knees rubbing against itself in anxiety.

"P-please, don't say anything...I can't handle th-the pressure. If they think I'm n-n-not getting better, they w-won't ever let me get out of here."

His voice was soft, almost a whimper. What the hell could possibly fuck up a kid to this extent? Craig almost pitied him, almost. It didn't excuse the fact that he was a creep, No matter how big and innocent his eyes were. This faggot was wasting his time, and refused get out of the shower. Refused. Refusal. It fucking infuriated him. He decided to break the one rule he had for himself, He had to touch Tweek.

Craig felt his skin prickle and burn the second he whipped open the shower curtain with gritted teeth and livid eyes, hitching an arm under the bony blond's knees, the other clawed around the back of his neck. Tweek screamed and flailed his long limbs in a vain attempt of release and freedom, but found himself thrown to the floor in disgust beside his bed. The bathroom door locked shut behind him.


	3. Chapter 3

Craig's first thought upon waking up the following morning, was less of a thought, and more of a realization that his neck was broken. He pulled his torso from the grainy floor of the shower and snapped his elbows, (hypersensitivity of the joints ran in the family) and groaned in agonizing discomfort. Tweek's terrified screaming upon removal from the shower had left Craig all but pasted to the inside of the bathroom in anger towards the spaz, although he had to admit, the kid had determination. Even after the water had run from boiling to frigid, (his wish for an ice-cold shower evaporated after a grand total of roughly 3 seconds) He could still hear the insomniac's agonizing wails. Trying his best to completely avoid the situation he had ignorantly caused, he decided to park his skinny ass in the cramped shower for the night, forgetting completely the meeting he was supposed to be having with his new psychiatrist the following morning. Now that morning had come, the memory came rushing back along with the pain in his now-stiff neck. Although he had originally fallen asleep sitting up with his knees to his chin, he somehow wound up in the fetal position with his head awkwardly shoved in the bottom of the corner. He flung his neck hard to either side, listening to the loud cracks informing him that his head was quite literally in the right place, before standing and pulling his arms behind him and leaning back, waiting for the rest of his body to loudly snap into position. Craig didn't bother attempting to brush out his short, black hair or put on some cleaner clothes before unlocking the door and striding out of the bathroom and into the hallway as quickly as he could to avoid the angry shouts of a very frazzled Tweek, not bothering to stop and turn around when he heard nothing at all.

After patiently waiting at the front desk for the room number he was supposed to find, He was off down another hallway on the opposite end of the building. He was supposed to find a man named 'Dr Fletcher.' He seemed easygoing enough, claiming that Craig could show up whenever he woke up as long as it was before eleven. It didn't take too long to find the door leading to his office, as it was covered in crudely-drawn doodles of childish things in vibrant crayon and stuck out like a sore thumb.

_He must have kids._

Craig knocked sharply on the glass, obscured completely by pieces of paper on the opposite side.

"Just a minute!"

A gruff but friendly voice called from inside. Craig could make out the quick shuffling of papers and opening and closing of a metal drawer before footsteps found their way to the door.

"You must be Craig Tucker. I've heard quite a lot about you, come on in."

The office seemed normal enough; scratchy gray carpet, light brown walls, computer and medication bottles strewn around. However, the entirety of the small room was coated in the same drawings Craig had noticed on the door.

"Have a seat Craig."

After being seated, Craig was surprised to find a stack of papers being shoved in his unsuspecting face.

"What's all this?"

"This is your file. I spent all of last night looking through it. I'm sure you've heard the reason behind placing you in a room with Mr. Tweak here?"

Craig's brows furrowed.

"What's that kid's real name?"

Dr. Fletcher chuckled and uncrossed his knees, running his fingers through his gray beard.

"His name is actually, Tweek Tweak. Quite interesting if you ask me."

"You're kidding."

Craig chose to believe that Dr. Fletcher was keeping the truth from him, 'patient confidentiality' or some shit.

"The reason why you're placed with him, since you never answered my question, is due to a similarity in symptoms and past traumas. Quite shockingly similar, actually."

So much for 'patient confidentiality.'

"No way. No fucking way in hell."

Craig was nothing like that fucking freak, hallucinations aside. No one would dare tell him otherwise.

"I probably shouldn't have let you know that, in all honesty. But I'm sure it couldn't hurt. Gimme a promise you won't do anything drastic with that deadly information?"

The doctor sent Craig a lopsided grin, the smallest hint of an apology in his eyes. He seemed to be kind, but hopelessly forgetful. That was the impression Craig was struck with, at least. He felt comfortable at least, with his sarcastic manner.

"I won't. But what does that have to do with me, exactly?"

Instead of answering the question, Fletcher responded with one of his own.

"Could you tell me what the symptoms you are suffering from are? Just to hear it one more time."

"Uh. Visual, tactile, and auditory hallucinations, irritability, trouble sleeping, delusions, trouble knowing if I'm dreaming or not I guess. Lack of appetite, social isolation, disorientation, chronic vertigo…I guess that's about it. This is what I've heard from other people. I don't think they're hallucinations."

Fletcher nodded, scribbling on a nearby notepad.

"Well, this is just to get the idea in your head, and by no means a diagnosis, but the things you're complaining of and that others have noticed in you, do match up pretty well with a specific illness that Mr. Tweak himself is dealing with."

Craig's stomach flipped over on itself in a rush of nausea.

"Have you ever heard of schizophrenia?"

o0o

The rest of the meeting had been a blur, Craig's mind in a daze. He barely managed to snap out of it as Kenny smacked his shoulder.

"Dude you look like you're gonna barf or something."

" I feel like it." Craig muttered, mostly to himself, as he pushed his lunch tray aside and set his forehead on the table.

"Are you gonna finish that?"

He sat across from Clyde, Stan and Kyle. He originally had wanted to eat lunch alone, but Kenny parked his scrawny ass next to his own, and motioned over half the fucking gang. As much as Craig dis-hated Kenny, he felt familiar bubbles of contempt in the pit of his stomach directed at the blond's extroverted attitude. He didn't complain however, making a scene and drawing attention to himself just wasn't in his nature. So he glanced behind him, at the other side of the cafeteria where the girls ward had lunch. He was met with the glare of a tall, androgynous girl with short black hair. He flipped her the bird. She held his gaze and mirrored his actions, before turning to wrap her arm around the skinnier blonde girl next to her. The blonde had her knees up to her chin, tugging on strands of her long, messy hair. She nuzzled into the neck of the noirette.

"What are you staring at bro. Your neck is doing this weird owl sort of thing right now it's freakin' me out."

"Clyde shut up…"

Stan mumbled, half-heartedly elbowing said boy in the ribs while holding down a staring contest with his untouched salad. Kenny was slowly sneaking food from Kyle's tray, as the ginger was too preoccupied with staring at Stan.

"Are all the girls lesbians or something?"

Craig always found himself asking these things without thinking through it. He didn't care if he offended anyone, he never did. But Clyde, unused to Craig's bluntness, snorted into his burrito.

"I dunno. We aren't supposed to speak with them."

Kyle answered, smacking Kenny's hand away from his potatoes.

"They all look either emo, or male."

Craig stated, popping a potato chip in his mouth.

"Except for that little blonde girl."

"I hope she's not a lesbian. She's pretty fucking cute."

Kenny said, smiling as he bit his lip and glanced over his shoulder.

Kyle smirked and poked at Kenny's chest with a long finger.

"What is it with you and twitchy blondes anyway? You seem to think Tweek is pretty adorable too."

"He is!"

Kenny insisted, tugging at the collar of his black t-shirt. At this point, Craig had drifted out of conversation and was beginning to zone out, barely noticing the table a few feet away where Leo, Eric and Token had been greeted by a nervous looking sociopath.

"Dude, what's Tweek doing down here."

Stan had completely turned his seat around, facing the table now being approached by a very exuberant Clyde. The very same Clyde who smacked his hand on the boy's shoulder and was leading him…_Oh fuck no._

Craig stood up, tray in hand and started walking towards the trash bin, away from that mop-headed creep.

_Jesus Christ, why does this shit always happen to me._

No sooner had he dumped his tray, than he felt a cold hand on his shoulder. Craig jumped and spun around, now face-to-neck with the exact person he was trying to avoid. He tried to abscond, but was blocked by a bony arm.

"C-Calm down! I j-j-just wanted to s-say sorry."

Tweek's brown eyes glittered with sadness, his toes knocking into each other in nervousness.

"Is that the whole reason you came down here?"

Craig raised an eyebrow at him, refusing to be phased by the boy's emotional freedom once again.

"Well, th-that…and I wanted to ask y-y-you if m-maybe you'd s-skip group to color with m-me again? I know you're going t-t-to say n-no, but I thought I sh-should ask. Maybe."

Craig had barely noticed how Tweek's height matched his own, the boy curled in on himself in fear and anticipation. He looked so frightened it was almost sad, how he braved the terror of briefly socializing just to ask his hateful roommate to color with him. Something in Craig's chest twisted, making him feel extremely uncomfortable. He very slowly nodded, watching Tweek's eyes grow wide in shock. He then felt himself being unwillingly pulled away by his hand, leaving the rest of the table to stare, open mouthed, as the two boys fled the cafeteria.

o0o

Tweek was smiling, wide as can be, the entire time he was pulling a dazed and confused Craig up the stairways and down the halls. He didn't want to take the elevator, "Too many risks." Once they arrived at the door to their room, Tweek opened the door for Craig, holding his arm out and bowing like a gentleman, despite the cheeky, ragged-toothed grin spread across his skinny face.

Craig punched him in the gut on the way in.

"I r-really am sorry about l-last night."

Tweek stated, rubbing his stomach like he was expecting a child.

"Why would you be sorry?"

Craig inquired. He wasn't stupid, he knew that Tweek couldn't control his fears. He didn't have much reason to apologize. If anyone did, it was Craig. But he wasn't about to stoop to that level. He wasn't even sure if he wanted to be here. Honestly, he couldn't even recall what was going through his head when he agreed to come back to the room anyway, although he was getting used to the idea that being around Tweek made him agree to things that he wouldn't under any other circumstances. Maybe Kenny was right. Maybe the kid was just a little bit cute. In a strictly pitiful way, of course.

"Because I annoyed you, a-and you got involved in m-my personal shit and I d-don't wanna drive you away and I'm s-s-sorry."

"It's fine dude just…stay out of the shower I guess. I need that."

"You d-don't look like use it much."

Tweek grinned happily, reaching under his mattress for his sketchbook and crayons. This time, he produced a few coloring pages as well. Craig socked him in the arm, producing a sideways smile.

"Y-You know, I've heard that when a boy punches a g-girl a lot, it means he likes her."

Craig punched him in the shoulder.

"You're r-really bad at this flirting thing, you know."

Craig cocked his eyebrow

"Don't you have to actually like someone in order to flirt with them?"

Tweek shrugged, beginning to color in a fish on the printed paper in front of him.

"W-Well I like y-you."

Craig's stomach did an involuntary flip.

"How?"

Tweek smiled softly before looking up at Craig.

"W-Well you're the only p-person that's ever told me off, a-and didn't t-treat me like something that n-needed to be taken care of…and you have p-pretty eyes."

Craig felt his face heat up as he watched the scrawny boy in front of him hide his embarrassed face in his crossed elbows, hands on his shoulders. A minute passed before Craig slowly picked up a maroon crayon and began to color in the designs on his previously untouched paper.

"You have pretty eyes too."

Tweek's head shot up from his arms, a light blush spreading across his cheeks. He smiled a little, finally gaining the courage to go back to his coloring. Craig's body felt light, his mind empty of hateful thoughts if only for a few blissful moments, disturbed by a light poke to his nose. He followed the line of the finger to look Tweek in the eye, his head tilted in confusion.

"Why d-don't you ever smile?"

Craig shrugged.

"I guess I never really had a reason to."

"What w-was your home l-like?"

Craig paused in thought, before answering carefully.

"My mother was a spineless, ignorant bitch, and my father was an alcoholic asshole. I guess it was pretty shittastical, but they didn't care about me enough to notice all the shit I smoked in my room."

Tweek laughed. Craig wished he didn't notice how innocent his smile was, and how badly it made him want to make Tweek laugh again.

"Y-you didn't have m-many close friends, d-did you."

"Nope. Just my pipe and my guinea pig."

Tweek laughed again. Craig's chest fluttered.

"You don't s-seem like the f-fuzzy animal t-type."

"You would think so, huh."

"H-Hey! You're smiling!"

Craig reached up a hand to poke at his face. Sure enough, a wide smile lay plastered under his nose. He dropped his hand, smile spreading into a full-blown grin.

"C-Craig?"

Tweek suddenly dropped his crayon, moving his knees apart until he sat cross-legged. Craig looked up at him.

"C-c-can I hold y-your hand?"

Craig's breath completely stopped-halted in its tracks in his throat. Something fluttered in his hollow chest, and he felt his cheeks flush uncharacteristically as he silently grasped Tweek's large, bony hand in his. Tweek bit the side of his lip, smiling shyly as he grabbed Craig's other hand. Craig let out the breath he didn't realize he was holding, exhaling shakily as Tweek slowly leaned forwards, placing the smallest of kisses on the tip of the raven's long nose.

He snapped. In a single moment of flushed anticipation, Craig released his hands from the boy's grip before grabbing the sides of his face and pulling it towards his own, kissing him hard. Tweek let out a muffled shriek, but didn't back away. He instead wound his arms around Craig's neck and pulled him closer, allowing Craig's tongue to trace along the edges of his pointy teeth. He couldn't stop his body from shaking, even as Tweek ran his long fingers through his short hair. Even as Tweek somehow found his way onto Craig's lap. Even as those hands were now running under his shirt, nails digging into Craig's pale skin. Craig couldn't stop the animalistic growl emerging from his throat as the blond pulled his lips from his, only to reattach themselves at his collar bone. He tossed his head back, breath erratic.

"S-So how long have you b-been schizophrenic."

_Smooth. Real fucking smooth._

Tweek suddenly lifted his head to look Craig in the eye, his own wide with shock.

"W-What?"

"The…the doctor told me. He said it was why we ended up in the same room. Because I guess I might have it too."

Tweek shot off of Craig's lap, turning away and threading his hands through his hair.

"G-God n-n-no. I'm not c-crazy! I'M NOT CRAZY!"

"T-Tweek! Calm down!"

The boy hunched over and spun around to face Craig, lips slightly swollen. He spoke in a whisper.

"Please don't let them t-tell you you're crazy too. I promise you're not…y-you can see what they can't."

Craig put his hands on Tweek's shaking shoulders, pausing to look him in the face before bringing him in to a tight hug. The blond's eyes began to well up, tears sliding silently down his ashen cheeks before he could stop them. He responded by burying his face in Craig's neck, who began to back up slowly until he was sitting on his bed with Tweek on his lap. Despite his monstrous height, the boy couldn't have weighed more than 100 pounds. He really was quite tiny.

Craig unhooked Tweek's fingers from his unruly hair, petting it down and letting the boy wrap his arms around his waist as he sobbed into Craig's shoulder. He couldn't believe this was happening. After being sexually abused by his father his entire life, Craig had tried his hardest to avoid any kind of romantic attraction towards anyone. Especially freaky looking kids he found in a mental hospital. God this was fucked up, but Tweek clearly needed someone. And if Craig was anything, he was a person to take care of those he had no one else. A shield, for lack of a better word. His only real purpose was to protect others. And as the psychopath in his arms whimpered softly, rage rose in his chest. How could anyone let this poor boy get to the state he was in? He was so kindhearted and…adorable. Yes. Craig could admit it now. His innocent nature and wide eyes left him speechless. What kind of parents would abandon such a child in a place like this? He held the boy tighter, squeezing his eyes shut and burying his nose in Tweek's long, coffee-scented hair. This was beyond crazy. He wasn't going to lie to himself, he felt a strong pull towards this wilted, ignored boy. He couldn't deny it any more. The more he tried, the worse it affected him. He would never admit to anybody how much of himself he saw in Tweek. He felt he was holding his own inner child, comforting the wounded, long abandoned part of himself that used to make him happy. His own abused innocence.

He didn't try to hide the tears falling from his eyes. He kissed the top of Tweek's head gently, momentarily enjoying the smell of coffee before the boy's head shot up and captured Craig's lips in a kiss. Something in his stomach fluttered, only for a second before Tweek pulled away, and his face found a home against a startled Craig's chest.

Craig lifted his thumb and brushed away a few stray tears from the side of the blond's face. It was when both boys found peace searching each other's gaze, that the door flung open, slamming against the wall, revealing a very terrified Clyde. Tweek screamed, flinging himself from Craig's lap, the latter whom scurried to the side of the bed furthest from the door in fear. When Clyde spoke, he was gasping for air.

"You…have to…leave. Code gray…front desk…Kyle…blood…ohmygod…"

With that, the disheveled brunette turned and fled back down the hallway. Tweek turned to Craig, hazel eyes wide in worry.

"I guess we'd better go."

Craig shoved his hands in his pockets and calmly began down the hall, Tweek stepping on his heels. He pretended not the notice the feminine screams and gruff shouting from the next hall over. He began to notice a brown trail following the path they were taking. The noises grew louder as they approached the front desk, where a nurse ushered them along with Token and Leo into the room Craig had his first group meeting in.

The first thing He noticed was Stan, alone in the center of the floor. His left arm hung at a funny angle, shoulder clearly ripped from it's socket. His face was coated in drying blood. A large 'X' was carved into his bare chest. His wrists were sliced open and leaking crimson on the floor…The cause of the trails. The noirette was on his knees, staring blankly towards the door. Leo shrieked, turning tail and fleeing the room immediately, nearly running into a certain dirty-blond-haired miscreant.

"Marsh!"

Kenny raced forwards as fast as he could, sliding onto his knees and wrapping his arms around a blood-coated Stan, clearly not giving anything relevant to a shit about the now-stained blue t-shirt he was wearing.

"Ky…Kyle…"

That was all Stan could manage to say before his throat closed on him. His body shook once, as silent tears ran down his cheeks, fabricating lines through the thick blood.

Watching Stan cry was creepy, to say the least. He held his poker face through the gasps and chokes, his eyes remaining open and expressionless. Kenny held him all the while, slowly rocking forwards and back.

Tweek peeked around Craig's shoulder, biting his lip. He quickly grabbed Craig's hand, squeezing so tight Craig could feel the blood get stuck in his fingers. A heavy silence hung in the air as Eric, the last boy, shoved himself through the doorway and onto a couch, squeaking in protest.

"The fuck happened to you?"

Jesus. And Craig thought he was blunt. Kenny whipped his head around, giving Cartman a glare capable of melting the ice caps. However, the stare-down was broken by a deep scream, and the muffled thump of running feet. In unison, the boys turned to the left wall-made completely out of glass-just in time to spot a certain blood-soaked ginger wrestle out of the grasp of two beefy security guards.

Craig had seen a lot of frightening things in his life. Hell, he's seen all of the 'Saw' movies, and not even that could have prepared him for the sight he was enduring right now.

Kyle's forearm was in his hand. The appendage had been snapped off at the elbow, and was leaking blood, making new trails on the floor. He dodged the security guards with ease, laughing maniacally all the while. His green eyes were opened wide, clearly amused at the feeble attempts to contain him. He giggled like a psychopathic schoolgirl as he ran between the rooms with unimaginable adrenaline-fueled speed, taking great pleasure in smacking the guards with his disembodied hand. It was the probably most inappropriate time…ever…for Tweek to stifle a laugh into the hand that wasn't occupied by Craig's

"Dude…"

Kenny was otherwise speechless, even Cartman couldn't think of a witty remark. Stan, however, threw himself out the door with more speed than Craig thought him to have.

"KYLE! KYLE WHAT DID YO-"

Stan was quickly grabbed by a guard, a hand around his mouth. His dislocated arm snapped loudly against the strain, causing Stan to yelp in pain. Kyle turned, letting his guard down just long enough to be tackled by security, feet slipping on the blood-soaked tiles, begging for traction. Both boys flailed helplessly, screaming out to each other in vain as they were dragged apart. Kyle lost grip on his arm, which fell to the floor with an undignified thump, distracting the guard around him just enough for Kyle to jab him in the jaw with the bone extending from his nubby arm-stump. The man yelled in protest before pulling him through a metal doorframe, screaming out for his best friend. Just before he was out of view from the window, Stan twisted his body hard against the thick arms encasing him. The pressure ripped one of cuts on his chest a few inches longer, blood pouring like a waterfall. He gasped and screamed in pain, before biting the guard's arm. He was thrown to the floor. A loud crack reverberated through the building as his head hit the tiles. The screaming stopped instantly. Then the blood came.


	4. Chapter 4

_Hey guys. I would like to once again, apologize for the lack of updates. I've been getting nagged for it a lot and I'm wicked sorry. I'll try to make them more frequent, as it seems to be in pretty high demand at this point._

A flash of black and orange whizzed past Craig's eyes as Kenny flew screaming out the door. Craig heard nothing when Kenny bent over Stan's body, he heard nothing when Kenny opened his mouth and screamed into the boy's face, he heard nothing as Kenny was pulled away, sobbing hysterically and reaching for his friend's body. The paramedics were on Stan almost as fast as Kenny was, pulling his body onto a stretcher and taking him away. He was vaguely aware of Token behind him, holding Leo's hair back as he vomited his guts up into the nearest trashcan. Tweek clung to his side, crying into Craig's shirt. Clyde wailed uncontrollably in the corner furthest from the door. Cartman looked at Craig, mouth moving. He was saying something. But Craig couldn't hear him. The world was silent. Blissfully silent. This was all he'd ever wanted. Complete and utter quiet. The voices in his head held their breath, waiting for an opportunity to attack. But Craig's mind was blank. It was blank as Tweek released his hand, it was blank as he grabbed his face, it was blank as he screamed at him. That's funny, when did the lights turn off?

o0o

There were a few wires in Craig's brain that weren't in the right places. At least, that's what the books told him. A few sensory nerves that crossed where they weren't supposed to, and BOOM. Synesthesia. It was a rare and interesting phenomenon, causing the boy to see letters and numbers in color. A was red, B was purple, C was yellow, etc. Reading was always fun for him, even if he could never find any books pertaining to his interests. Even stranger, perhaps, were the things Craig saw when he listened to music. And it was this that ran through his mind as he followed the trail of red triangles and white mist over the grassy hill in front of him. As he neared the line of vibrant purple trees on the edge of the field, the music was thicker, and the triangles became purple as well. He became aware of a very faint voice, weaving turquoise waves through the army of angular shapes hanging in the air like clouds. He continued walking down the lines of shapes, stopping only when he saw where the voice was coming from. A thin boy hung upside down from a violet tree branch, his mis-buttoned shirt rode up, exposing his pale stomach. He sang carelessly, turquoise waves cascading from his mouth where they floated into the sky like steam. Craig stopped in his tracks, observing the child. He couldn't have been older than seven, just like Craig himself. He was short and blond, and was missing one of his front teeth. His bottom teeth were tiny and smooth, whereas the one at the top was jagged and pointy. Craig decided that the disheveled looking child had a pretty voice, and followed him when he swung down from the tree branch and into a trail in the woods. The blond boy knew he was being followed, and turned around to smile at Craig. He extended his hand. The boy's mouth moved, turquoise flowing from his lips. Even though Craig couldn't hear him, he knew what he was asking. Craig nodded, and grabbed the boy's hand, interlacing their fingers. The woods were dark, but the grass glowed with pale light, illuminating the boy's path. Blue leaves fluttered around them as they walked, hand in hand, until the edge of the woods was visible in the distance. Craig wasn't scared of the small ghosts peaking around violet tree trunks, and smiled softly in their direction. The small boy next to him continued to sing. Craig couldn't hear a thing, but the colors sure were beautiful. So was the boy's smile. The way his chocolate eyes glittered and lit up like stars when he caught Craig staring was enchanting. At the edge of the trees, the ground stopped. The two boys hung their legs over the edge of the cliff and gazed down at the blue treetops below.

Suddenly, the small boy lifted his hands and grinned, covering Craig's eyes. He briefly felt someone's lips on his, before the hands were removed. The teenaged boy in front of him grinned his jagged smile, and once again took a seventeen-year-old Craig's hand in his. Tweek bit his lip as he smiled at Craig, extending a hand to brush the bangs from his eyes. Craig scooted closer and rested his head on Tweek's shoulder, twirling a cobalt leaf between his fingers. His vision was soon assaulted by wavy teal lines, as Tweek began to sing once again. He grabbed Craig's hand and pulled him to his feet, twirling him in circles. Craig felt a certain warmth in his chest that spread further and further whenever he caught Tweek smiling at him. The boy had such a strange beauty about him, something that no one else could ever hope to possess.

Craig immediately regretted any kind or loving thoughts towards the boy, as he grabbed Craig by the wrists and flung himself, along with a flailing noirette, off the side of the cliff. He tried to scream. Of course there was no noise, this world was silent. His voice was substituted by deep green curls of color extending into the sky. Lines, which Tweek held on to, Suspending them both in the air. Tweek began to climb up the patterns of green as if they were tree branches held aloft by invisible strings. Craig followed suit, still scared out of his mind, but too entranced with the boy to leave him alone. Holding out their arms for balance, they started off down the pine green roads. Craig couldn't help but notice the trees below resembled fluffy, blue broccoli, and as high as they were, they were coming closer. A small, golden lake was coming in to view amidst the broccoli and heavy, glowing fog.

By the time the boys reached the lake, the sun was setting, sending shimmering rays of yellow, orange and magenta through the air where the colors were captured by the fog, and hung sparkling in humid and heavy air. About ten feet from the ground, Tweek bent over the edge of the line and screamed, silent, sweeping curls of blue fell like fabric to the grass below. He slid on his feet to the ground, landing near the edge of the lake. He beckoned Craig to follow, which he did. Craig took a single, cautious step onto the thin, turquoise bar, and immediately fell backwards. Accepting his fate, the degraded noirette crossed his arms in defeat and slid to the lake on his ass. Tweek threw his head back and laughed, filling the air with teal and tangerine spirals. Craig got to his feet and began dusting himself off, only to look up and find the blond suddenly ridding himself of his clothing. He felt his face heat up, even as Tweek ran and cannonballed into the golden water, screaming his colorful spirals to the sky. Craig began to do the same, and threw his clothing along with Tweek's into a messy pile. He dived into the water, reemerging near the center of the lake. He was alone. He felt his heart sink only for a moment, before a pair of thin arms curled around his waist. He smiling and turned in Tweek's arms, wrapping his arms around his neck and pulling him into a deep kiss. The blond delicately placed his hands on the raven's cheeks. Craig could honestly say that he loved this-the silence in the air, the surrealistic atmosphere, the warm water lapping at his bare chest. But the boy in his arms sealed the deal. He was absolutely angelic. The colors of the sunset gave his pale, beige hair a vibrant halo as it fell past his shoulders, golden water dripping from his bangs and eyelashes. His pale skin glowed under the fading sun, and every inch of his body shimmered with dripping water. Craig was happier than he'd ever felt before. He pressed himself closer to the boy, feeling as much of Tweek's skin on his as he could. He held his neck tighter as he brought their lips together again, savoring the faint taste of coffee on his tongue. Tweek's innocent, kind, heart had been exactly what Craig had lost in himself so many years ago. He was exactly what Craig had been missing. He decided, then and there, that no matter what happened to him, he would be okay as long as he had this boy. He needed Tweek like Tweek needed him, and it had to be the best feeling in the world.

o0o

The worst feeling in the world, however, was being awoken from a pleasant dream by a smack to the face by a certain bulbous asshole. Craig coughed and sat up from his resting place on the floor. He was immediately tackled by a flying blur of beige and green. Tweek nestled himself into his lap and nuzzled his tear-stained face into Craig's neck. Craig hesitantly curled his arms around Tweek's shoulders.

"Kahl loses his fuckin shit, Stan's prolly dead right now, and you have to go pass out on us right on the fucking floor like a sissy. Seriously dude you suck."

Eric sneered in Craig's direction before turning towards the door to leave.

"Don't get stuck in the door on your way out."

Craig met Cartman's sneer with a blank face, despite the laughter he was keeping buried in his chest, right next to Tweek's nervous fist-fulls of his shirt.

"Well…Fuck you Craig!"

And with a single comeback shining with the brilliance of a billion diamonds, Cartman had left the building.

Leo quickly filled the room with his bubbling laugher, wiping forgotten tears from his full cheeks. Clyde clapped one hand on his shoulder, the other on Token's, and led the three of them out of the room and towards their respective bedrooms, Leo still spewing girlish giggles like a fountain. Craig and Tweek were alone on the blood soaked floor, sharing solemn gazes and shy hand-pokes.

"M-maybe we should g-g-go back to our room…"

Craig nodded and pulled Tweek to his feet, wrapping an arm around his waist and stepping quietly down the hallway. Kyle's arm had long been plucked from the floor, and a custodian was now scrubbing the tiles with some lemon-smelling chemical shit. Craig didn't care. It was dark outside and he wanted to go to bed. Tweek walked with his eyes closed, leaning on Craig for support and direction. He must have been tired. Craig felt his gaze involuntarily soften in Tweek's direction. He opened the door and pulled them both through, setting Tweek on his bed and beginning to undo his own jeans. He pulled his shirt off and turned to look at the opposite bed, where Tweek was sitting up with his head hung forwards. His body vibrated slightly, and his hair hung like curtains in front of his face. Craig cautiously approached him. Was he asleep? Holy shit. He was out like a fucking light. When he said he just crashed, he really wasn't kidding. Craig sighed and undid Tweek's jeans. God he felt like a rapist for doing this. Unable to find any pajama pants anywhere, (Insomniacs generally don't need pajamas) He decided to leave sleeping beauty in his boxers. It felt wrong to leave him in his own bed after a night like this. Craig scooped Tweek off of his mattress and across the room into Craig's own. After tucking him in, Craig crawled under the blankets next to him and curled himself around the boy's frail body. He took no shame in laying his arm over Tweek's waist. He was sure he wouldn't mind, had he been awake. Craig was far from tired; he actually had no idea how long he'd been unconscious. Could have been minutes, could have been hours. This all came about so quickly. Just last night he had been locked inside the bathroom, drowning out Tweek's anguished screams of fear, and now he was in Craig's arms. Maybe being alone for so long had left him a little…well…lonely. It was ridiculous, really. No one would ever guess that Craig Tucker had emotions, no matter how raw and underused they were. And goddamn it, holding someone like this felt great. Whether it was anger, pity, or affection, Tweek made Craig feel things. That was more than anyone else could ever hope to do. Something about him wormed its way into Craig's brain and made him feel human. He wasn't just a metal shell of a person. Tweek had broken down Craig's iron wall without even trying. That had to mean something. Craig was no longer disgusted by the promise of affection and physical contact, and in fact found himself wanting to touch Tweek. He let his fingers wander around the boy's side, noticing how his skin was cool to the touch. How could his skin always be so cold? It must have been uncomfortable. So he pulled Tweek closer, burying his face in the back of his neck, humming softly to himself and delicately tracing the patterns of Tweek's ribcage under his skin.

o0o

He couldn't remember when he fell asleep, but Craig's chest immediately fluttered at the realization that his head was resting on Tweek's bare chest, his arms around Craig's torso.

_Oh god he's awake…_

Tweek looked at Craig, smiling slightly as he lifted a hand to play with his hair.

"Thank for p-putting me to sleep last night, C-Craig."

Craig smiled and sat up, stretching his arms backwards until they snapped into place.

"Don't d-do that. Your arm's gonna l-look like S-Stan's."

At his own mention of the boy's name, Tweek's face fell as the rest of the previous night's events came back to him at once. He looked…nauseated. For lack of a better word.

"Hey man, it's gonna be okay. What's gonna happen is gonna happen. Worrying about it won't change a thing."

Tweek held his head down, tears threatening to spill from his eyes. God not this again. Craig couldn't bear to see him sad anymore. Neither of them knew if Stan was even alive right now. God only knows what happened to Kyle…he barely knew those boys, but the conclusion of the night left Craig feeling like he should have joined Leo with his head in the trashcan. Watching them scream as they were torn away from each other was heart-wrenching, at best. Tweek stood up, pulling on a tshirt and left the room without another word, leaving Craig alone, confused and half-naked. So he decided it would be a good time for a shower.

o0o

Stan's head was fuzzy. He could vaguely make out the blurry noise of the heart monitor beeping next to his bed. As he began to regain consciousness, he felt an increasingly sharp pain across the side of his head. He tried to lift his arm, but was stopped by an IV and a heavily bandaged forearm.

"Hey babe. How was your nap?"

Stan turned his aching head to see a sideways-smirking ginger sitting next to his bed.

"Kyle! Uh…how long was I out?"

"About eleven days. They put my arm on ice and because it was on the joint, reattached it pretty well. I can't move it yet and I can't leave for a few more weeks but…they let me come in here to see you."

Stan smiled weakly. God, everything hurt. His chest was bandaged completely, as were both of his arms and his head. He barely remembered what happened…but he knew Kyle had a bipolar episode. The worst he'd ever seen. After walking in on Stan gouging himself open with a razor blade he'd snuck in, Kyle went ballistic_. "How would you like it if I maimed myself?"_

"They...uh…couldn't fix your shoulder. Claimed it had been out of place for too long. You should have done something about that when it happened."

Stan laughed, reaching out and grabbing Kyle's 'good' hand.

"Well it never really bothered me much. Doesn't hurt or anything. Never would have thought a fall off a swing could deform someone so badly."

"Holy shit is that how it happened?"

"I tried to do a backflip off of it. Landed pretty fucking hard and dislocated my arm. Pretty funny, I guess."

Kyle grinned slightly, before standing up and bending over Stan, kissing him gently.

"God I missed you man. I think a week and a half qualifies as a little coma. I-"

He was silenced by the noirette sitting up and slinging his bandaged arms around his neck, pulling him in and kissing him hard. Soon the room was spinning, and Kyle had to lay a disoriented Stan back onto his bed, for fear of ripping his stitches out. Kyle was soon called back to his room, leaving Stan awake and alone for the first time in almost two weeks. He had nothing to do but sit and think. God, hospitals were boring. At least in the mental ward he could run about with his friends and find new ways to get in trouble. There was never a boring day when medications were so constantly being switched. It was almost like seeing a new side of someone, every single day. The boys were so understanding. They all had similar problems, and even the undiagnosed patients saw little bits of themselves around the others. Although nobody else in the ward shared Stan's diagnosis of manic depression, he could find pieces of himself in Kyle, as well as Kyle saw himself in Stan. They were each other's missing pieces. Hell, they even went manic together and ended up in the same hall in the orthopedic unit. Stan briefly wondered if the kids upstairs knew of his disappearance, or at least knew where he had gone.

_Of course they notice you're gone. It would be ridiculous for them not to._

All the same, he couldn't shake the feeling of his own worthlessness. God, he put himself in this mess. None of it would have happened if he had just stuck with the treatment plan, and hadn't snuck in the razor blade with which he had tried to kill himself. Again. He couldn't even follow through with it. He was so pathetic it made him want to cry. He'd gone and fucked up everyone else's lives once again. Way to go, Stan Darsh. He didn't try to be so obnoxiously complicated, he really didn't. But he swore he could feel the hateful eyes of every person he passed, boring into the back of his skull. What about him was so goddamn different? What was it that made people stare? Whatever it was, it singled him out. And that was the last thing he wanted. All that he wanted in life was to take Kyle and run away. Shove a mattress and a TV and a microwave into the back of his mom's minivan and take off to Seattle. Where they could live by the ocean in a shitty apartment and support themselves. Everything would be okay again. Stan could go to an art school, Kyle to law school, and they would never have to deal with anybody else ever again. It was a stupid dream, but the boys had been planning for as long as they could remember. Long before they ended up here. They would paint the walls vibrant, mismatched colors and buy a fish tank. Maybe they would even put fish in it. The longing for freedom left Stan with silent tears cascading from his eyes. He wondered briefly if there was a way he could signal the aliens to abduct him and take him away before that. When he got back, they would just leave for Washington. It was something he would need to google as soon as he got out of here. If he ever did. The patterns his illness had taken didn't look promising. None of the medications could help him. He felt side effects, sure. But no benefits. Kyle was the only thing capable of filling the hole in his chest, and he couldn't always be around. There was no way that Stan could base all of his mental health on one person. What if Kyle died? Stan would have nothing at all.

His melancholy thoughts were interrupted by a knock on his door. A nurse with a syringe entered, a fake smile plastered on her makeup-caked face. Stan knew the drill. He held his upturned arm out, and tried his hardest not to flinch at the needle in his inner elbow. The pain subsided almost immediately, fatigue following suit. He found it increasingly hard to keep his eyes open, and soon drifted into a silent and dreamless sleep.


End file.
